


Make the world go away

by cedarrapidsgirl



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:25:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedarrapidsgirl/pseuds/cedarrapidsgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk was having one of those days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make the world go away

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for me, cause I've had a bad couple of days, so I wrote this to make myself feel better. I was really mean to poor Jim, but it'll be okay. Promise. My grammar on this story probably bites, but I kinda wanted it to be. Jim Kirk thinks in run-on sentences, but then, so do I. I don't know if the Enterprise has a conference room off of the bridge, but I gave it one. I also decided that the day shift starts at 0800, breaks for half hour lunch at 1200, and is over at 1600. My story, my rules, I say. Originally, this had to do with Jim eating a whole pan of brownies after a bad day, like I did after the last couple days. The story took a different turn, though. It had a mood swing in the last paragraphs. Hope you all like it! The alternate title for this story was “Jim Kirk and the horrible, awful, no good, very bad day”. I seen that in an LJ icon, and while that was probably referring to the movie, I liked it for this too. This story is for mijan, who is super cool, and there is a little bit of her secret OTP in this. This is also for my cousin Hope, who knows me really well, and still loves me and puts up with me anyway.

Jim Kirk was having one of those days. Not like the whole universe is going to implode if the Captain doesn't save us RIGHT NOW kind of days, but just a cranky kind of day, where things start out bad and go right downhill from there. First off, he had no clean shirts. Honestly. He's James T. Kirk, Captain of the U.S.S. _Fricking_ Enterprise, the pride and joy of Starfleet, and he couldn't get a clean gold shirt? And he sure as hell wasn't going to borrow one from Bones, even though usually the blue and gold were all mixed together in their closet, for some damn reason there was only blue shirts today, and even though the whole damn ship probably knew about their relationship, wearing a blue medical shirt in front of said whole damn ship wasn't going to fly. Fine. So no captain's shirt today. He went to the replicator to get some breakfast, wearing the black undershirt and regulation pants (at least he still had some of those) while dictating a nasty note to laundry about “where the hell are all my shirts” and mentally making a note about maybe implementing a 'casual Thursday' so that he could MAYBE redeem himself for technically being out of uniform on the bridge today. He bets he'll still get an eyebrow raise from Spock. He always does, for something or other. He orders something he THOUGHT was harmless from the replicator, swallows three bites, and barely makes it to sickbay before the rash on his hands spreads up his arms. Doctor McCoy doesn't even manage to hide his eye roll before Kirk throws himself on the nearest bio-bed and groans.

“What was it this time, Jim?” He sighs, and gets out the 'Jim Kirk special for calming down previously undiagnosed reactions' hypo that he has taken to carrying in his lab coat, and makes a mental note to have Christine order MORE of this dosage, dammit.

“A bagel, Bones, a plain old everyday bagel with cream cheese and strawberry jelly, you'd think the damn replicator in my own quarters would know what I'm allergic to-and oh-my-God-”

Any other words were lost as the hypospray took effect and mixed with the aforementioned supposed to be restricted strawberry jelly and everything Jim had in his stomach came up all over himself. It missed Bones, thankfully, as he knew this would probably happen, and Jim laid down again, his arm over his eyes, and just wanted to crawl back in bed until tomorrow. Maybe he'd have some clean shirts by then.

But Bones wasn't having any of that. “Okay, now that you've gotten some that out of your system, this'll help with the rest of the nausea and some other symptoms, go change your clothes and get up to the bridge before Spock comes nosing around in here wondering where you're at. And I got enough problems, I don't need HIM in here as well.”

Jim winced as another hypospray got him in the neck. He couldn't help himself, he started to whine. “Bones, I don't wanna be captain today. Please, get me out of it today, let Spock do it, I don't care, I just wanta go back to bed!” He knew he was pushing Bones' buttons to the max now, but Jim didn't care. He just wanted to be taken care of today, and wanted Bones to be the one to do it.

All Jim got for his trouble was a rough shove at his shoulder and Bones pulling him to his feet, and pushing him away at the same time. “C'mon, Jim, put on your big girl panties and get over it, get back to your quarters and shower and _get up to the bridge. NOW!_ ”

Doctor McCoy shoved him out in the hallway so fast he didn't get a chance to ask Bones how he could have possibly managed to know what was in that locked box in the back of the closet, it was _woman's_ panties, not _big girls_ , but he'd worry about that later. Maybe Bones would want him to model some of them later...The thought process stopped when he reached his quarters, it was no use imagining now, Bones was seriously NOT in the mood now, and he still had to make it up to the bridge at some point today.

As he threw his clothes in the laundry (God he hoped he see them again)and stepped in the shower, he imagined that Spock was wondering where he was, as it was now 0810, ships time. He hurried up and saw that it was only 0815 when he was done, and went to get dressed, again.

Boots, underwear, (he honestly thought about the locked box for a only split second. Honestly.) And then decided against it, and went for the basic black briefs, pants, all check. Shirt. Kirk went to the drawer where he kept his black undershirts, he'd already had the gold shirt argument today. Oh shit. Now where were all those shirts? None. Absolutely none. Rather than mixing up his and Bones' black shirts by hanging them up in the closet, they were different sizes, of course, Bones was broader in the shoulders than Jim, they kept them in drawers, Jim's on the right and Bones' on the left. And the right side was empty. No way. He rummaged through Bones' side of black shirts, just to see if there were any of his were mixed in, which was going to tick Bones off to no end to see his shirts messed up, but whatever, no shirts in Jim's size. Jim sighed, one of the too large shirts in his hand. He almost sat on the end of the bed, but then, with his luck, the bed would collapse. That's the day he was having.

Fine. Whatever. He pulled Bones' shirt over his head, and it went farther past his ass than it should and he felt like he should roll up the sleeves at the wrists, but decided against it for now. He had to get to the bridge, it now was 0823, and Spock was going to be pissed. Well, as pissed as he let himself look, anyway. He didn't need another trip to sickbay before 0900, and not with Spock's fingermarks on his throat. Again.

He thanked whatever Gods there may be somewhere that he made it to the bridge in 3 minutes, with no turbolift issues whatsoever. The chronometer read 0826 when he finally stepped onto the bridge. He looked around the bridge. Oh great. Jim made another mental note to ask someone up in Stellar Cartography later if something was up with the alignment of the stars, or some moon somewhere was full, 'cause everyone on the main bridge crew was grumpy, cranky, fidgety, anxious or a combination of both.

Uhura looked pissy at Spock, so they'd must have had a tiff about some damn thing, if the glares she usually reserved for Jim were being directed at the First Officer. Spock looked pissed as well, but that could be explained for him being a half hour late, and of course, having Uhura shooting him death looks for the half hour they were waiting on him didn't probably help either. Oh, yeah, and there was that eyebrow raise just for him. Figures.

Sulu was looking guilty, and nervous and secretly happy, and cycling through all those emotions every 15 seconds. He was also giving Chekov surreptitious looks, and probably was hoping no one was looking, except maybe Chekov. Now that he'd arrived on the bridge, Sulu decided to add sneaking looks at the Captain to his rotation of emotions. Chekov was about in the same orbit as Sulu, with a bit less attention span, if that was even possible, given Sulu's mental state. But Chekov managed to look at Sulu, his console, the Captain, Sulu again, blush, and his console again in about 10 seconds. Every ten seconds. And was nervously moving his leg like a puppy when you find the right spot to scratch. And they were trying to act like nobody knew. Right.

Kirk was mentally rolling his eyes at that thought, and then wondered for a split second what it meant when he started acting like his boyfri-Bones, when Spock spoke to him, a tinge of anger he really wasn't hiding too well coming through. “Captain Kirk, you are exactly 29 minutes late to your shift on the bridge. I do hope you have an acceptable explanation for this.” The glare Kirk got along with the tone told him it had better be a good one.

He could go all rank on him, and say he's the Captain and he'll show up whenever he damn well _felt_ like it, but he felt a headache coming on, and hearing Spock ramble on about setting an example and some archaic protocol 6.146 what-the-hell-ever, was NOT on Kirk's high list of things to do today. Or any day, really. Just really NOT today. So he put on his best 'I'm in command today, really.' -face and answered Spock.

“I had an allergic reaction to my breakfast and had to go to sickbay. I've got my Doctor's excuse, if you really want to call down there, Commander. I had a nasty rash on my arms that was the least of my problems. I do apologize for the delay, but now I'm here, let's get this day started.” Jim sat down in the Captain's chair, and pushed up his too long sleeves to his elbows not only to show Spock the remainder of the strawberry hives, but to get the damn things out of his way. He felt like a 14 year old girl, damn it, with the edges of the sleeves grazing his knuckles. And the sooner this day starts, the sooner it'll be over, he thought, chewing on his fingernail.

Spock said nothing, but stared at Kirk for a couple minutes and opening his mouth again. Jim cut him off, getting pissed himself now. “And I know, Spock, I am not in _proper_ uniform, trust me, I _know_ , I am having a _slight_ issue with the laundry that I will remedy as soon as I'm done here today. So, please, let's just get on with the day.”

His tone was in total Captain mode now, so Spock thankfully let the issue drop and turned to face his station as he gave his report on the last 24 hours, of which Kirk honestly heard about 25 percent off. It was mostly the same thing everyday. Jim sighed and rubbed his temples again to try to relieve the headache. The morning dragged on, as Jim tried not to look at the chronometer on the wall right in front of him for second time in a minute. Maybe he should look into having it moved to the wall behind him, so he couldn't glance it _every 15 seconds._ Man, he was  so going to snap today, he just knew it. He hoped it would at least be at someone who could handle it, poor Chekov was wound so tight today he would probably roll up in a ball and cry today if Jim went off on him.

Finally, at 1150 he got up, and of course, his sleeves promptly slid back down to his knuckles, and he _swore_ somebody snickered at that, thought he couldn't place who right now, probably Uhura, she's the only one on the bridge now who could snicker at their Commanding Officer and get away with it. He spoke sharply to everyone there. “I am going to the conference room to have my lunch.” He didn't want to say more, as Jim wasn't really sure he could control anything else that may come out of his mouth than that.

Thankfully, no one said a word as he crossed the bridge and went into the small conference room that someone thought a bridge of a Starfleet vessel should have. For which he was grateful. While he hadn't made an official order that he wanted to be left alone, he was, for the next half hour, with the exception of Yeoman Rand, bringing him his lunch of a very boring looking pasta salad and bread and butter. And water.

“D-Doctor's orders.” she stammered when he gave her a look concerning the condition of his food. Doctor's orders his ass. Of course it was, he thought. Leave it to Dr. McCoy to put in official orders about his _lunch_ , for God's sake. Bones bitched about so much paperwork, or computer work now, really, but he brought most of it on himself. Honestly, official orders about what the Captain can and can't eat? I guess he's only looking out for me, Jim mused as he signed some PADDs for something, he wasn't really sure what, the Yeoman just murmured “sign these here please” as she had brought the food. Of course, McCoy was also looking out for himself, because if he kept a tight rein over Jim's eating habits the less likely was chance they'd have a repeat of this morning. McCoy was just buying himself some time, because still, the chance of Jim being allergic to something was still higher than most.

Jim managed to make it through his meal with no reactions, but it still was a pretty boring meal. Jim looked up at the chronometer in the small room-what was with it that there was so many of the damn things all over place-and realized it was 1228. Two minutes to get back out onto the bridge, and just a bit over 3 hours under it was 1545 and Bones would come up for his daily briefing report and save him from this madness. Jim got up, pushed up his sleeves (again) and picking up his dishes and PADDs made his way back to his chair, dropping off his armful of work and mess on the poor Yeoman who was sitting outside the room, waiting for him.

The afternoon went by just about as fast as the morning did. Sulu and Chekov both returned from lunch rather flush, and looking even more guilty and doey-eyed at each other than before-how that was even possible, Kirk had no idea, but he bet that they didn't spend that half hour at the running track.

Uhura was still looking pissy, but she was translating something, so she had an intense look of 'yeah, I'm cheesed but I'm also busy so don't bother me unless you really need something, and yeah, that means you, _Captain_ Kirk.' Yeah, with Uhura, that was its own look. And reserved especially for him. He learned that the hard way. More than once.

Spock was off in la-la land, or whatever land, where ever he was when he was lost in thought, well, good for him. At least somebody on the bridge was getting something done today. Cause it sure the hell wasn't him. Jim sighed for what was probably the hundredth time today, looked out at the stars rushing by, and tried not to drum his fingers on the arm of his chair, really, he was trying really hard NOT to, and he could just FEEL Uhura glaring at him, and even Spock noticed, and Uhura was going to just SAY something, he knew it.

And at officially 1530, Jim snapped. After seeing Sulu and Chekov smile at each other knowingly _again_ , he couldn't take it. “Oh for crying out loud, you two, everyone on the whole ship knows that you're together, why don't you just get it out in the open and get it over with?” Everyone turned to look at Jim, Sulu and Chekov open-mouthed and slightly embarrassed, Spock with an eyebrow raised saying “Wow, Captain, that was highly inappropriate.” while really saying nothing at all from his mouth, and Uhura with a smirk that totally said, “Way to go, Captain Idiot.”

But what she did say almost knocked Jim out of his chair. “Now Captain, you shouldn't be so harsh on them, after all, you have your OWN relationship with Dr. McCoy that you should probably be open with us all about as well, am I right?” It came out so demurely, so smooth, that if Jim would have been on his A-game, and well, today was ranking somewhere around the y-and-z game, really, Jim might have had a snappy comeback, or at least a look to silence her. He was her commanding officer, still.

But Jim had none of that. He just stared at Uhura, and heard Spock bite off a stern “Lieutenant” to the woman, who was starting to finally look sheepish after Kirk kept up his deer in the headlights stare at her for more than a few minutes. With out anything he could think of to say, he dropped his gaze from Uhura to his lap, picking at his fingers and pulling on his sleeves.

Sulu and Chekov had finally quit looking at him and were back to their consoles, pretending to be busy. Spock spoke again. “While I do not approve of the Captain's outburst in the least, Lieutenant and Ensign,” nodding to Sulu and Chekov, who were now looking guilty again, “If you are both in fact in some sort of consensual romantic relationship that is acceptable, but I do have to agree with the Captain, such behavior such as was displayed by you both today can not remain a constant up here, you will both have to find the balance that you need between the personal and professional, especially on the bridge. Understood?” They both nodded, yes, they understood.

Spock turned to face Uhura. “And Lieutenant, you should not blatantly disrespect both the Captain and Dr. McCoy. All our personal lives are indeed that, personal, and should have a minimal effect on our actions on the bridge. If the Captain and the Doctor are in fact in a romantic relationship, it is none of our business unless they wish it to be, and the same goes to the Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Chekov.” Jim looked up, as he knew that last part of that line was for him as well.

Uhura looked at Spock and Jim and bit her lip, then spoke. “I'm sorry, Captain, for-well, inferring about you and Doctor McCoy, it was totally inappropriate, and out of line professionally. I apologize.” She looked a little nervous, but Jim knew she was sincere, and turned his chair to face her. “Apology accepted, Lieutenant, we all have our days where we say things we shouldn't.” He smiled at her, and she visibly relaxed, and smiled back.

“And that most definitely includes me,” Jim went on, turning to face Sulu and Chekov, leaning in towards them. “I would like to sincerely apologize for my outburst at you two, but Mr. Spock is right. Whatever personal relationship you two may have, keep the bedroom parts of it there. Not on the bridge.” He leaned back in his chair, and knowingly winked and grinned at Sulu, who just smiled and looked at Chekov who was bright red.

Sulu spoke. “Thank you, sirs, for your advice and acceptance with-”and as Sulu glanced at the navigator again- _ah, love_ -Jim thought to himself, “-with us, our relationship is still rather new, and we are still trying to figure things out.” Sulu looked rather relieved to have this all out in the open, and Chekov was just quiet, for a change, looking all in love and happy and cute and relieved himself and approving of letting Sulu speak for them, for now.

“You're welcome, Lieutenant.” Jim turned to Spock. “And thank you, Commander, for bringing us all back to some sort of reality. I know, you're going to say something about how we never left this reality, but, yeah. Thank you anyway for bringing this situation under control.” Before Spock could respond, Jim continued. “And since Lieutenant Uhura did manage to bring up the subject of my personal life, I think I will expand on it.” Now all the eyes on the bridge were really on him, with all the eyebrows raised expectantly.

Spock spoke. “Captain, you really don't have to-”

Jim cut him off. “I know, Spock I don't _have_ to, but I'm going to anyway.” Jim took a deep breath and continued, pulling at his sleeves. (Again.) Yes, Doctor McCoy and I are in a relationship. Yes, it's romantic.” Jim had to smile at that thought, and while Bones did have his special little touches and things that he did for him, mostly in private, the thought of the cranky, bitching, hard nosed, overworked doctor being all fuzzy and cuddly and romantic was kinda funny. He didn't want to say they had a sexual relationship because then he wouldn't be getting the giggles over the word _romantic_ he'd been getting a hard-on from the words sexual and Bones in the same sentence. “And yes, you will probably see Dr. McCoy leaving my quarters, and no, it will not always be ship's business. We will try, as well as all the other couples on this ship, to keep our personal and professional lives separate as we can, especially when it is critical to our Starfleet missions.” He shot a look of “Understand?” to Sulu and Chekov, and they nodded, and Spock and Uhura nodded and looked at each other carefully when he gave the same look to them. “Good. End of discussion, then.”

Jim turned to face the stars again. “I also wish to apologize to everyone for my general crabbiness today. I had a rather bad morning before making it to the bridge, and it seems like everyone else has as well. However, that is no excuse for my behavior today. And I am sorry.” Kirk was talking to everyone, but looking at no one in particular, and suddenly all the weight of all the stress and being crabby and sick and all the bull crap of the day came down on him at once, and he slouched in his chair and pressed his fingers to his temples again. Man, his head hurt.

Before any one could say anything, the doors of the turbolift whooshed open and Jim looked up at the chrono, yep, 1545, right on time, Bones stepped out and onto the bridge, grumbling the whole time, not really needing to look where he was going, of course he was going to go stand by the Captain's chair.

“Damn paperwork has got me backlogged clear 'til Christmas, for God's sake, like I have nothing better to go than stare at a damn PADD all day-” Bones finally stopped griping long enough to get a good look at Jim. “Are you wearing-” He stopped before he said _my shirt,_ and realized a little too late that Jim was wearing his shirt, and looked like hell, probably a migraine from the way Jim brought his hands down from his face and squinted as he looked up at him. He also realized that everyone on the bridge was staring at him, like he'd never been on the bridge before, even though he was here every damn day at this time.

Suddenly, Sulu and Chekov looked very interested in their consoles, Uhura turned her back to him and started monitoring something, and even Spock looked down and away before reaching for a nearby PADD, studying something intently. He went back to staring at Jim, who now had leaned back in his chair and had his arm over his eyes.

Before Bones could say anything, Jim spoke wearily, with his arm still in place. “Yes, Bones, I'm wearing your black shirt, the laundry and I are at war over all my shirts, and so I grabbed what was available. Oh, yeah, I also managed to go public with our relationship about 10 minutes ago, so that means the whole ship somehow officially knows by now. And please, Bones, tell me you've got something for this migraine, or I probably will throw up again. And I doubt my aim will be any better this time.”

Bones just stared for a couple more minutes, swallowed hard and looked around at the bridge like Jim didn't just admit to their relationship to everybody, and noticed, thankfully, that everyone was still pretending to be busy, although Uhura did smile at him, a knowing smile, but not in a bad way, the 'it's okay' smile you get when you've got the approval you didn't know you needed or wanted.

“Yeah, Jim, I can fix that. Let's go.” Bones wanted to get off the bridge. Something was seriously weird.

Jim got up slowly. “Ugh, I hurt. Mr. Spock, please take the conn for the last minutes of the shift, would you? I have got to get this headache looked at and lie down.” Mr. Spock replied with a “Yes, sir,” and Jim let Bones guide him to the turbolift.

Jim leaned against the cool metal of the lift as they went down to sickbay. He was silent, and Bones was as well, which Jim knew would last about 2.3 seconds after the door closed on his quarters. Jim supported himself against the wall in the corridor as Bones quickly got the needed hypo and they boarded the lift again, feeling worse by the second, headed back to the Captain's quarters, still all in silence.

Oh, yeah, this was going to be a good fight, Jim thought as he pressed his hand to his head in the turbolift, feeling rather nauseous, this one will go in the record books for sure, if the death drip Bones had on that hypospray was any indication as to how pissed Bones was. Which it probably was. Bones was a very private person, and while him and Jim had discussed MAYBE going public with their relationship sometime, Bones finding out that Jim told everyone on the bridge about it, and then telling Bones that he told everyone while STILL on the bridge was a big Leonard McCoy don't. Yeah, Bones was gonna be pissed. But there wasn't much he could do about it now, he was gonna be sick.

And sick he was, losing his lunch in the toilet of his bathroom, 'cause Bones saw the signs and hurried him up to get him in there, just about not in time. Right now he didn't really care if Bones was angry, he just wanted to lie down and forget this whole damn day. Bones handed him a washcloth, and Jim wiped his face, and took off his-well, Bones'-shirt and put it in the laundry, and flopped down face first on the bed, not caring one bit that he still had his boots on.

Bones came out of the bathroom and sighed, and sat down at the end of the bed, taking off his own boots before working on Jim's, setting them down by his next to the closet. Bones moved over to the other side of the bed, at Jim's still form, just breathing in and out, trying to relax. “You know I have to do this.” He said almost apologetically.

“Yeah, I know, just hurry up and get it over with.” Jim just turned his head to the side, away from Bones, and Bones grabbed Jim's shoulder and jabbed the hypo into his neck, jumping as Jim did. It took effect almost immediately, as Jim relaxed under Bones' grip, but still faced away from him as his even breathing returned from the hypospray-induced elevation. Bones watched as Jim breathed, in and out, in and out, and thought he was almost asleep when he heard a muffled “I'm sorry” from the pillows, still facing the closet, and not Bones.

The Doctor just laid down next to him, pulled Jim onto his side, and curled up next to him, his face on Jim's neck. “It's okay. We'll figure it out. We always do.” He gave him a gentle kiss to his neck and pulled him close. Jim rolled over onto his other side and looked into Bones' face, and was comforted by the look of concern and contentment from his partner. He gave a tired smile, and a gentle kiss back to Bones. “Thank you.”

Bones just smiled back, said “You're welcome, love”, kissed his forehead and held Jim until he fell asleep. The doctor smiled at the young man in his arms, and thought to himself, sometimes, Jim just thinks and says too much. And really, deep down, that was alright with him. And with that thought, Dr. McCoy settled in to sleep as well.


End file.
